


held between heaven and hell

by saccarines (orphan_account)



Series: Howlin' For You [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Pre-Slash, tiny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/saccarines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While there is something wolfish about Barnes, Rogers is incredibly, irrevocably human. He’s sick six days out of seven, twenty hours out of twenty-four, and the fact that he’s still alive and kicking is rooted more in human stubbornness than supernatural biology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	held between heaven and hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnoCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnoCat/gifts).



> This is a birthday story for my precious, precious Anno~  
> She initially asked for parallels, but my brain decided to be unhelpful and remind me that she seemed to love werewolves and then a whole au formed, so this is the prequel for the AU that will follow
> 
> Happy Birthday Dear!!! I hope it's lovely!
> 
> Also, lifting [Dumbo](http://thingswithwings.dreamwidth.org/213805.html) as Steve & Bucky's neighborhood from the should-be widely popular post about 30s/40s life and Steve Rogers
> 
> and [title](http://thelittlestcrane.tumblr.com/post/86287220659/held-between-heaven-and-hell)
> 
> Despite the articulation of some words and Steve's habit of calling his mother 'Ma, and the inclusion of a Corner Store, this is not set in the 40s, rather the very early 2000s

It’s a well-known fact in Dumbo that Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers are inseparable. They are thirteen and fourteen respectively, and while there is something wolfish about Barnes, Rogers is incredibly, irrevocably human. He’s sick six days out of seven, twenty hours out of twenty-four, and the fact that he’s still alive and kicking is rooted more in human stubbornness than supernatural biology.

Barnes, though, is wholly supernatural. It’s no secret that the Barnes family is a bit _more_ than a family – they’re a pack. Half of Barnes’ block is part of it in some way or another, which makes it all the more surprising that Rogers lives in a small apartment with his Ma almost three blocks north, significantly not in the Barnes’ Territory.

That doesn’t stop the people in Dumbo from giving Steve a bit of special treatment. There’s no real way into the pack’s good graces, yet a kid like Rogers had somehow managed it. Steve doesn’t have to know that he gets a bit more toffee than the other kids when he stops by the corner store after school, or that the preacher resolutely ignores the doodles that line the hymnals when Steve makes it to Mass, and Steve is far too young to understand that his Ma is paid a whole dollar more than the other nurses at the clinic.

Unfortunately, the little things don’t matter so much in the grand scheme of things. In the grand scheme of things, Steve is fourteen years old, and his life isn’t fair because he’s dying and he doesn’t want to be.

Steve has never been the healthiest, but even when it’s hard to breathe and his head spins and the light hurts his eyes, he can get through it. Ma will slip medicine from the clinic before her shift ends and she’ll be home in time to make him take it, or Bucky will hold his head up and will make him breathe in tandem with him.

It’s different this time, though, because he hadn’t gotten sick until his Ma had left for work, and it had come on quick and harsh. It’s different this time because Bucky isn’t nearby; he’s at home with his family, waiting for the moon to reach its highest point in the sky. It’s different because the sickness usually leaves Steve overheated, but right now he feels like there’s nothing but cold all around him.

Steve pulls the blankets tighter around him, curling further into the lumpy cushions of the couch. His stomach is in painful knots, clenching with every move, and his fingers are frozen where they’re clutching his forearms under the cotton. It feels like death is standing at the foot of the couch, breathing down on him, waiting for him to give in. If Steve squints, he can almost see it, dark and imposing, bony fingers resting on the armrest.

Steve shivers again, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wonders if this is how it ends, alone and afraid. His Ma will come home and find him like this, which isn’t fair because she’s got her own problems (Steve knows she’s been diagnosed, even if she isn’t going to tell him). She’ll have to tell Bucky, and Bucky will have to tell-

He won’t really have to tell anyone. Steve doesn’t have a lot of people in his life, aside from those two.

Steve wonders if it’s possible to bargain with Death. If it’s going to take him so early, the least it can do is give his Ma more time. Old Mr. Collins down the hall has been sick too. Maybe they’ll see each other on the way up (or down, Steve supposes he shouldn’t assume. He knows what pastors say about boys like him, after all).

Death be not proud, though, if Steve’s English teacher has anything to say about it. Maybe Death won’t care that Steve has been half (and some change) in love with his very male best friend since the day they met. Steve imagines Death is a little frustrated with him anyway, given how many close calls he’s had over the years.

It’s entirely likely that the sickness is giving him hallucinations.

Steve falls headfirst into the hallucinations, almost comforted by the thought that he might not die alone after all, even if his company is here to collect. He doesn’t hear the doorknob twist a few times, nor does he hear the sound of the key in the lock.

He’s positive he’s imagining the warm hand on his shoulder and the urgent voice in his ear, at least until his blanket is wrestled away from him. Steve cracks his eyes open, twisting as much as his body allows so he can give a good stink-eye to his blanket-thief.

“You still alive in there, Stevie?”

Steve blinks rapidly as a light flicks on from somewhere, shielding his eyes with his fingers. He groans as Bucky grabs his wrist, steering it away from his face. “Buck?” He tries not to cough, but he hasn’t spoken a word since his mother had left for her shift, nor had he taken a drink. “What are you doing here? You’re turning tonight, go home.”

“And leave you here all by yourself?” Bucky scoffs, “you say the stupidest things, Rogers.”

“How did you even know I was-” Steve has to cut himself off to swallow – to wet his throat “-sick?”

“I dunno, I felt it.” Bucky is pulling him off the couch, gently manhandling him to the floor. “I was sittin’ around with the folks waitin’ to turn, and then I just thought, hey, I should be over here.”

“They’re probably really mad,” Steve sighs out.

“Nah, they gave each other this look and told me I better hurry, so I did.” Bucky is pulling the blanket from the couch, pinching it together in a half-circle. The pillows come next, and Bucky disappears for a moment before coming back with more – from the bedrooms, probably.

“Are you making a nest?” Steve mumbles.

“A den, Rogers. A _den_.”

Steve grunts as Bucky settles in and pulls him back against his chest. Bucky is radiating warmth, almost so hot it burns, but it’s a good burn. Steve barely registers the fact that Bucky’s nose is buried in his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m scenting you,” Bucky mutters. “It’s so, when I turn, I know you’re m-. My friend.”

“You should go home,” Steve protests.

“Hell no, Stevie. You’re freezing, and I’m like over a hundred degrees. It’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Steve huffs, knowing that he’s lost this round to Bucky’s stubbornness. He’s too dazed to properly argue, otherwise he’d win. “Don’t slobber on me or nothin’.”

“I’m a _wolf_ , Rogers. I’m offended.”

Steve hums, pushing back into the heat that is Bucky. He’s like a furnace without the pain of getting too close to the flames. Steve isn’t sure how long he lies there against Bucky’s chest, but he knows he falls asleep at some point, because he wakes up in a slightly bleary haze nearly sweating. There is fur underneath his cheek and the steady sound of loud breathing filling up the room, deep and more-than-human.

Bucky. It’s Bucky. For a moment, Steve is just happy Bucky didn’t eat him or something when he turned (this is only his second go, after all, he’s still learning. Steve probably reeks anyway, as sick as he is), and then he’s kind of amazed. Bucky is as big as Steve, which isn’t that unusual, but Steve hasn’t ever seen a wolf as big as he is (granted he’s never seen a wolf before anyway). His tail is flopped over Steve’s stomach, and he’s curled around him like a giant pillow. He opens one blue eye to watch Steve as he shifts around, but doesn’t do anything else.

Steve settles against his side against, curled up in the heat as much as he can be. He feels a little better – a little less like he’s dying – and there’s a warmth in his chest caused by Bucky’s presence but _not_. Steve has never wanted to tell Bucky he loves him as much as he does now, because Bucky is…is everything, and yet he’s spending his time with some human kid who could die between breaths, and that’s-

Instead, Steve buries his face in Bucky’s fur and forces himself back to sleep.

(He’s sick for two days, and Bucky remains a wolf the whole time. Steve resolutely does not make fun of him when he turns back and spends a few hours growling instead of talking, and he absolutely does not mention the fact that Bucky is a bit more tactile than usual.

His Ma sends Bucky home with a flurry of kisses to his hair, whispering how grateful she is for him when she thinks Steve can’t hear her. He only starts to truly feel better once Bucky pulls him aside and tells him that he can’t catch ‘human stuff’ anyway, so Steve shouldn’t worry about being contagious.

Overall, things - as they always do when Bucky’s around - look to be getting better.)

 


End file.
